Hurmel ma Kherumel ma: No Honors, No Titles
by SoraOfSkye
Summary: SPOILERS! DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS AT THE END OF THE HOBBIT! Shortly after the Battle of Five Armies, Thorin calls Dwalin to his side to confide everything during his final moments. Well aware of what had happen to his beloved nephews, the king is unable to deal with the loss, thinking himself responsible for their deaths. Subsequent Dworin. Image by LadyNorthStar


"Shamukh, Thorin-melhekh _(Hail, King Thorin)_ ," announced a dwarf sentry at the front of the king's tent. "Dwalin-uzbad _(Lord Dwalin)_, Son of Fundin, arrives."

The battered captain of the guard dismissed him with a gesture. He bowed his head slightly as he stepped through the opening of the king's tent. He stopped for a moment as he gazed upon the sight before him and his heart sank within. There he was, Thorin II Oakenshield, Son of Thrain, Son of Thror King Under the Mountain and King of the Durin's Folk, upon his deathbed as life rapidly escaped him. He took a breath and pressed on slowly to his liege lord's side.

"You have called for me, Uzbaduh _(My lord)_?" he said in a quiet voice. The king turned his gaze over towards his friend and gave a weak smile. He beckoned the captain closer with his eyes, for he was too weak to use their customary greeting. In the corner of his eyes, Dwalin could see tears welling up, making Thorin's ice blue eyes glisten with a beautiful melancholy. He obliged and took firm hold of the king's hand in his own.

"I will murder him, the one who did this to you, if Mahal had not taken him already," he gritted his teeth, trying his best not to have his own tears betray him. "If not him, then his entire litter will suffice!"

"He has already been slain by my hands for what he has done, Dwalin. There is no need to invoke the Maker," Thorin smiled but it went sour as tears rolled down his cheek. "But even then, it was not enough to save them. Even if I killed him a thousand times, it would not bring back Fili and Kili."

He bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling, but his voice was hoarse as the lump in his throat swelled. "They were there, Dwalin. Beside me, fighting, defending our homeland. I could not have been more proud of them both. But they also fell by my side. I saw the light leave their young eyes as I held them in my arms. My boys. My poor boys."

His words were barely audible through him choking on his own hot tears. Dwalin met his forehead against the king's, held the back of his head with his other hand and they both wept quietly. "I promised that I would protect them. I said that I would not allow yet another Durinson die on my watch. But what good was I then? I have failed them. I have killed-"

"-No!" the captain looked deep into Thorin's soul, "Don't you even dare think for a second that you were the one responsible for their deaths. They were prepared to die for Erebor, for our deliverance to our Homeland. They were not boys, but valiant warriors, true princes of the Line of Durin! They died proud by your side as your equals, defending what was dear to them. All of us would have done the same, including myself. Mourn them, yes, but honor them for what they were and what they have done! That is what they deserve now, Thorin, not remorse."

His peridot eyes never left their gaze into the pair of ice blue. He stifled the lump in his throat and did his best to stop the tears from continuing. He had to stay strong and stern for his king. He knew how those thoughts tore at his heart. Once again in his life, Thorin was unable to protect his own family. He felt like a failure, a disgrace and he knew very well why he was so inadequate. Despite all the years of trying his best to resist the temptation, the sickness that plagued his line claimed yet another victim. His nephews had to suffer his wrath and descent into madness. It was not supposed to end like this. They were supposed to reclaim their homeland and soon after his reign, Fili and possibly even Kili would have taken the mantle of King Under the Mountain.

"And you, Thorin, you too have fought valiantly. You fought for the realm, not for your own desires. Do not be ashamed of what you have achieved. You were able to put aside all grudges to stand up for what's right. That is a true king, my friend," Dwalin smiled as he pressed his forehead a little harder against the king's.

They sat there in silence as they both breathed heavily, ridding themselves of all their tears until they ran dry. But it was not just that that prolonged the silence. Dwalin knew that his king would soon join the rest of his family. He wanted to hold onto every last second he could have with his dearest friend. He could hear their hearts beat during this silence, his a lot healthier and louder than the other. He relished the warmth of his forehead against his own. Finally after a long while, Thorin broke the silence with a sad smile.

"Can you ever forgive me for what I have done back there?" Dwalin shook his head and held firmly onto the king's hand as he continued to look into his eyes.

"It is but a fleeting memory now. I shall think nothing of it and nor should you," he reached over and rubbed the tears away from the latter's cheek with his calloused thumb. "What I will always remember is the brave king, garbed in gilded armor, marching with axes in hand against the certainty of death and prevailing. That is the Thorin Oakenshield that will live on in the history of our people and in my heart." He pulled the latter's hand over to his chest and held it there. They both smiled as they gazed deep into each other's eyes.

"I am glad to have you by my side here and now. Your words have eased my broken heart. You have always been there for me. I cannot thank you enough, old friend. But, might I ask for one more favor?"

"Name it, Uzbaduh _(my lord)_," Dwalin responded.

"No, no honors, no titles. I'd rather we part as what we truly are to each other." Thorin shook his head and held the latter's face. The captain eye's widened momentarily, but then nodded.

"Send for the halfling. I wish to make peace with Master Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, for I have done him much wrong and can only hope I can make some amends to him," he removed his hand and leaned back slightly, all the while cringing in pain.

"As you wish. Farewell, Âzyungâluh _(My love)_," Dwalin leaned over and planted a kiss upon Thorin's brow. The king smiled as fresh tears well anew. He too gave Dwalin a kiss upon the brow. This was the first and last time he would ever be called that by anyone.

"And to your farewell, kurdeluh uzbadul _(Lord of my heart)_ . Mukhuh Mahal udnîn zu ra sanzigil umkhûh zu _(May Mahal guard you and mithril find you)_," the king smiled weakly.

Dwalin stood and headed towards the opening of the tent, but stopped and turned, "We will meet again."

Thorin nodded. "Yes. But not yet. Someday, but not for a while, Dwalin."

* * *

I hope you guys liked that! I had to get into the mood by listening to some depressing Lion King Soundtrack music. This was one of the things I jotted down yesterday in my journal during work. I'm pretty bored during work, you see. As for the Khuzdul, I hope I typed it correctly. I'm sorry if I didn't. Also, I ship Dwalin and Thorin, but not in a sexual way. I would like to believe that their relationship is more platonic than anything. They do deeply and secretly love each other, but they do not need the physical contact or the pet names.


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